


Until You Break.Until You Yield

by Sanguis



Series: Thunder from the Skies. Hail of Burning Ice [3]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Hel is here to be your Queen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 09:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3930925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanguis/pseuds/Sanguis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki has touched Ragnarök with his fingertips, therein he finds destruction. This is not his desire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until You Break.Until You Yield

**Author's Note:**

> The end, at last! A conclusion.

Thor walks in and out of rooms, half asleep, and with unseen hurts broiling beneath his skin. His smiles have lost their edge – devoid of either sadness or happiness, he seems far more dangerous, though not desperate. Sons of Odin don’t know desperation, they bide their time.

He says little when Odin speaks to him: “Yes, All-Father,” when Odin sends him as ambassador to other realms, “I will do what is best,” when his father asks what his intentions are, “I will reflect on this,” when Frigga explains what could have gone better.

Somewhere out there, she knows, Loki bides his time too. He is much more Odin’s prodigal heir than hers, but she had taught him to weave the craft gently. Thor’s touch is less soft, but he will learn. He will learn.

Thor feels Loki’s magic double and triple; it beats against his mind but cannot flow through him as it once had.

His own reserve is muted, but he can still use it. His travels have taught him more than the libraries of Asgard care to reveal, and if he’s patient, he can execute all the conjuration, abjurations, and far more.

He learns patience.

Many golden creatures crawl into Asgard, all of them beautiful – wrong in some manner too, and hungrier than their tiny forms should be. They carry thunder.  
.

Frigga asks him to confine himself to Fensalir. “Be careful, lest Odin-King take your tongue as well.”

Spells and songs are all Thor yet has.  
.

Floods threaten Asgard until then. Thor calms when he is in Fensalir with his mother. From there, he can slip away into little cracks remaining from the creation and growth of Yggdrasil. There are such sights to see; constellations align and twinkle prettily in the skies of Niðavellir, the turquoise ebb and tide of Vanaheimr – even the icy plains of Jötunheimr, and its river Ílfingr.

He doesn’t search the landscape for Loki, scour the banks of Ílfingr to see his contours (at the very least). Heimdall is not the only one who watches the cosmos spin.

Thor finds black feathers.

.

Snowstorms become Loki’s friends; the Jötnar certainly feel nothing for him. After his third month in Jötunheimr, Loki pretends to die under the heavy beating of a club. They do nothing with his body, which is both a relief and an insult; once, he remembers, he had proudly been their Prince.

Better they think he’s returned to the snow.

He can gather his magic in peace; he has his own blood as well as Thor’s. He has patience aplenty. Loki has touched Ragnarök with his fingertips and rejected it; what he wants is not destruction but to have the galaxy within his reach.

.

Niflheimr is a terribly lonely place, but it has its uses. Something grows there, under Loki’s watch.

The Nornir become restless.

.

Thor summons a storm upon Loki’s return, and kisses his beloved with relish. Loki grins – “It is done,” he says.

A child approaches Hliðskjálf, a grinning imp. She is small, but her steps are steady. She is half-beauty, half-terror, and for a moment, Odin truly believes Ragnarök has begun. Abominations crawl through his hall. She smiles at him, and points to his chest.

The All-father is not one to yield, not to Laufey, and certainly not to a child of Darkness.

He falls.

Frigga takes a deep breath, lays a hand on Odin’s arm. He still breathes; no child, no matter wherefrom, has the power to simply slay the All-father. The Einherjar do not seem to understand this.

But they cannot touch her, little Queen of the Dead Lands. Frigga feels her heart swell with love, and tells herself it is not misplaced. “What is your name, grandchild mine?”

“Hel,” Loki says as he slides from the shadows. “Our daughter’s name is Hel.”

.

She commands the world eater as if it were her due.


End file.
